Hottest in the Office
by SideshowStarlet
Summary: What if Ryan had a crush on Michael? You would have a sensuous tale of hot temps, goofy bosses, strip clubs, plotting, alliances, humor, slash, and, quite possibly, true love. In other words, you would have this story.


Ryan Howard, soon to be Temp of Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, stepped confidently out of his car and strolled into the perfectly ordinary-looking building, having no idea what adventures, what angst, what awesomeness, and what absolute insanity he would experience there. He had no way of knowing as he entered the building housing the mid-range paper company for the first time that today he was beginning an epic journey, one that would turn him from a boy fresh out of college, hoping to get into business school, to a man. It was just as well he didn't know; had he detected a hint of what was awaiting him, he would have run screaming as far away from the seemingly unassuming building as he could, future be damned. So Ryan's optimistic cluelessness as he rode the elevator worked out for everyone, really.

Ryan had a funny feeling about his boss the moment he saw the man walking over. You know, a funny feeling _down there._ "Hey," The manager called out as he hurried over. He had an eager, somewhat goofy grin on his face and was bounding over as if Ryan's arrival just made his day. The boss had darkish skin, black hair, and incredible hazel eyes.

"Hey," Ryan returned very intelligently. Ryan smiled nervously, hoping against hope no-one had noticed his slight nervousness and the bulge in his pants. But, as he had his back to Pam the receptionist, and his future coworkers seemed to be too wrapped up in, you know, work to care about the newcomer, Ryan felt he was safe for now.

"This is Mr. Scott," Pam told Ryan when Michael had reached them.

"Guilty, guilty as charged," Michael said holding out his hand for Ryan to shake. The contact sent prickles- the good kind- down Ryan's spine.

"Ryan, uh, Howard from the temp agency," Ryan said, mentally kicking himself for sounding like an idiot in front of the man who was both his boss and his crush.

"Uh-huh," Michael said, still gripping Ryan's hand.

"Daniqua sent me down to start today?" Ryan continued, hating the fact that it came out sounding like a question.

God, this man had a great smile; Ryan felt his heart skip a beat, then pound faster. Yep, he heard about it happening when a person was- _Ah, a Moe Howard impression? How… creative- _but had no idea that anyone could actually experience that. On the bright side, Michael Scott seemed too out of this world to notice Ryan's rather _obvious_ attraction to him. He wouldn't put it past this strange man to call him on the little something in his pocket. In as loud a voice as possible and in full view of the rest of the office. Yep, thank goodness for small favors. Michael raised his hand, ready to give a high-five. Ryan obliged, and the two gripped hands for just a second. Ryan wondered if he was blushing. He could feel what he hoped was a handsome and charming smile frozen on his dry lips; he could just not stop grinning around this man, annoying boss-from-Hell or not. He was sure that his palms had started to sweat before he reluctantly released Michael's hand.

_Oh God, a Hitler impression. That's… unusual. _As he grinned awkwardly, watching Michael go into another attempt to entertain him, Ryan knew from this moment forward that he would forever be traumatized by stories of Hitler and the Holocaust. Oh wait, he already was, especially considering the fact that he was Jewish. Well, now, he would be _twice _as traumatized, disturbed, troubled, upset, shocked, and distressed by the events of World War II. Hold on, can you actually quantify emotion? He guessed doctors could measure brain waves or heart beats per minute or something like that. Oh, man, his heartbeat was going a thousand miles an hour, and he wasn't even thinking of the Holocaust. Ryan was, in fact, thinking about how his new boss seemed to be passing his thought process into Ryan's brain. Not that Ryan could actually read Michael's thoughts, but he felt that his boss' thoughts probably adopted that same rambling, goofy tone, which explained Michael's rather odd behavior. Now that was traumatizing.

Ryan wasn't exactly worried about having a crush on a man. He knew since high school that he was gay. It was just the idea of crushing on this odd, rather annoying man that made him nervous. Not to mention this man was his boss, and it might make working with him slightly _uncomfortable._ He had a sixth sense that if he showed even a hint of attraction to Michael, his new boss would smother him with affection and try to sweep him off his feet. That is, if Michael was into guys… and Ryan, who was almost always able to tell, would bet $10 that Michael was gay or at least bisexual. Ryan desperately tried to tune back into Michael's monologue, figuring that whatever Michael was saying could not be as weird as thinking these thoughts about his new boss. The Temp and the Regional Manager- some sicko somewhere was probably lying in bed, staring at his plasma TV and wanking off to porn based on this premise.

"I like for people to think of me as a friend first and a boss second," Michael was telling him. "Maybe an entertainer third," he added as an afterthought. Ryan nodded automatically, all the while wondering how someone so weird and annoying could be so _cute. _

Later on, Michael took him around to meet his new coworkers. Ryan was torn between feeling happy over spending more time with Michael (odd as the idea may sound) and nervous as he considered that he was spending more time with Michael, giving him more of a chance to blow his cover, possibly in front of coworkers who were sure to be more observant than his boss (he didn't see how anyone could be any more clueless). But it wasn't like he had much of a say in the matter, so he tagged along like Michael's eager little brother as they trooped to the very back of the office first so that when Michael was finished introducing everyone, they would end up at the front, near his office.

Ryan smiled mechanically as he met Kelly, a cute but extremely talkative Indian-American customer service representative. He and Michael were barely able to get a word in edgewise for about thirty minutes as her monologue about Tom Cruise, Brangelina, and the Olsen twins gave way to a soliloquy on the awesomeness of Pink (both the color and the singer). Ryan wasn't quite sure how or when she transferred from one topic to the other, because she seemed to just blurt out whatever was in her head, then babble on about it until she grew bored and started talking about something else. Also, Ryan was having trouble concentrating, standing shoulder to shoulder with Michael, almost touching him. He amused himself during the strange girl's long speech by watching Michael out of the corner of his eye. The older man was obviously not paying any attention to Kelly, not that she cared, staring at the ceiling and tapping his feet as though dancing.

"So, then, I was like, 'Oh my God, you did not just do that!' And she was like 'Yes I did!' And I was like 'No you didn't,' and she was like 'Oh, yes I did.' Then I was like 'Oh, no you did _not!' _And she was all, 'Yes, I did, Kelly! You just saw me do it!' And I was like, 'Geez, relax, take a chill pill, you know?'"

Ryan nodded politely as the strange girl appeared to be expecting some sort of response. Michael started whistling a made-up tune to accompany his little dance. Ryan was considering edging his way out of Kelly's "nook" as she called it, and wondering if either Michael or Kelly would notice if he escaped, when Michael made an offhanded comment about Ryan's blue shirt bringing out his eyes. _"OK, be cool, Howard," _Ryan thought. The new temp smiled, blushing a little, and muttered a thank you. Kelly agreed with Michael's comment with squealing enthusiasm, raving for at least ten minutes about how "adorable" Ryan looked. This time Michael- to Ryan's joy and embarrassment- seemed fully tuned into the conversation, occasionally agreeing with some of her rather _overenthusiastic_ comments. He considered himself pretty average looking though on the short side of things, so it's not like Brad Pitt just walked into Kelly's nook, but if these two, well Michael, thought he was hot, wasn't about to disagree. Ryan thought Michael looked pretty cute, but he would die before he acted as loudmouthed as Kelly and his new boss. He prayed to any deity who was listening that he could make it through his time at Dunder Mifflin without anyone, least of all Michael Scott, finding out about his unexplainable and uncontrollable attraction to Michael Scott. Unfortunately, this was not to be, as Kelly, though talking about the incredible awesomeness of snow-cones and the double awesomeness of pink snow-cones, was reading the cute new temp like a book. She noticed the way Ryan watched Michael out of the corner of his eye throughout the whole conversation, even though Michael didn't say anything for, like, twenty minutes. She saw the way he blushed when Michael complimented his big, blue, smoldering eyes. As she observed Ryan, she was mentally calling her friends to tell them all about the handsome new temp falling for the quirky boss. They would make such a cute couple- so, so cute- like newborn baby dressed all in pink kind of cute. They were just made for each other, Kelly thought, and she _was _an expert on such things. While Ryan and Michael would make _such _an adorable match, she couldn't help but wonder if Ryan was into girls, too. Maybe they could go out for coffee some time, grab lunch, see a movie, fall head over heels in love… but if he wasn't, that's cool too. If he was just into guys, they could still go shopping together. She giggled to herself, knowing that she could find him an outfit that would really wow Michael. Maybe she could convince him to wear something pink.

At this point, Ryan's savior, a blonde, timid-looking man with a receding hairline poked his head over the cubicle wall to see who Kelly's new friend/victim was. With more than a hint of distaste in his voice, Michael introduced Toby the Human Resources Representative. Toby seemed to understand that at least two people needed to be speaking for a talk to qualify as a conversation, so the two were able to make polite small talk, with Michael occasionally putting his two cents in. By the end of the five minute conversation, Ryan learned that Toby had a four year-old daughter named Sasha who had inherited his blond hair and sweet smile, judging from the picture he showed Ryan, and that Scranton, along with having the highest sales of any other branch, was also known at corporate as the weirdest branch in the history of Dunder Mifflin. Toby had glanced subtly at Michael as he said this. This action, as it could reasonably be described as "subtle" or "covert" went completely unnoticed by Michael. Ryan hoped his infuriating attraction to the legendarily weird Michael was subtle and covert. He learned from Michael's comments, which varied from quirky to flat-out rude, that Toby was divorced and the Antichrist. Ryan, following Toby's lead, ignored these comments. Before too long, Michael, like a child waiting for his mother to finish a conversation, soon grew impatient and fidgety and dragged Ryan off to meet his other co-workers. "Good luck," Toby said, as Michael put his hand on Ryan's arm- sending shivers up Ryan's shoulder- to lead him to the accountants' corner, where he met Angela, a no-nonsense blond Christian chick, Oscar, a Mexican-American Ryan would bet $20 was gay, and Kevin, a fat guy who seemed kind of slow. They lingered for a moment to enjoy Angela's sharp criticisms, Kevin's stupidity, and Oscar's non-flamboyant normalcy before going off to meet Meredith the Supplier Relations Rep, who tried to rope Ryan into buying her a drink, and Creed the Quality Assurance guy, who tried to sell Ryan some Compaq stock. Apparently, there was someone else who worked in this area named Devon, but he was on break.

Michael grew bouncier and bouncier as they headed towards the sales floor. As he told Ryan, Michael was a great salesman himself, which led to his promotion to regional manager, so this was a walk down memory lane for him. Michael introduced Stanley, who nodded to Ryan and continued working through a book of crossword puzzles as he convinced a customer on the phone to buy Dunder Mifflin paper, and Phyllis, a motherly-looking woman who greeted him with a hug.

Michael led Ryan to the next table over, the one closest to the receptionist desk, and introduced him to Jim, a tall, handsome, charming guy with an infectious smile. If Ryan could choose any guy to crush on, it would be Jim. He could put anyone at ease and had a great sense of humor that wasn't nearly as "out there" as Michael's brand of humor. Unfortunately, he didn't have any choice on who he crushed on, and Jim was undoubtedly heterosexual (too bad).

Then, he met Dwight, a rather odd and intense man who introduced himself as "Dwight Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager," ("Assistant _to the _Regional Manager," Michael had corrected patiently.) and told Ryan about how he fixed up a $1,200 car so that it's now worth $3,000. When looking through his desk to show Ryan the photos, he suddenly banged his fists on the desk and screamed "Damn it!"

Michael, to his credit, seemed unfazed by the sudden blow-up and simply put his hands on Dwight's shoulders, saying "OK, judge is in session. What's the problem?"

He put my stuff in Jello again!" Dwight screamed angrily, pulling the plate with the mound of Jello out of his drawer. Ryan heard Pam give a loud giggle, and then stifle it. It actually was kind of funny, Ryan thought, with the stapler floating in the green Jello like dead animal parts preserved in a jar in some high school biology class. Jim gave Dwight a "who me?" look that he must practice in the mirror every morning.

Dwight turned to Jim, who was watching with a look of feigned innocence in his eyes. "This is the third time!" Dwight shouted, "And it wasn't funny the first two times either!"

Dwight tries to pull the stapler out of the Jello, but Michael slapped his hand away saying. "No, no, you have to eat it out. There are starving people in the world, _which I hate_-the starving people not the world… I mean…" He trailed off uncertainly.

"Real professional, Jim," Dwight snorted angrily. "You," Dwight pointed at Ryan, "Can be a witness." He turned to Michael and said, "Can you reprimand him, please?"

"How do you know it was me?" Jim asked reasonably, as he dug into a snack pack of Jello.

"It's always you," Dwight pointed out, scowling.

To Michael, he said, "Are you gonna discipline him or not?"

"Oooh, discipline. Kinky!" Michael joked, a goofy grin on his face. He sobered for a moment and said, "The thing about a practical joke is that you have to know when to start as well as stop. And, Jim, this is the time to stop putting Dwight's personal effects in Jello."

Jim thought about this for a second. Ryan fought to stop himself from bursting out laughing at the stapler in Jello and the serious, thoughtful expression on Jim's face. Still, he couldn't keep down a tiny grin. "OK," Jim finally said, nodding seriously. "Dwight, I'm sorry, because I have always been your biggest flan."

It was so lame that it was funny. You just had to laugh. Michael laughed uproariously, saying, "That's the way it is around here; it just goes round and round and round."

"You should have him put in custardy," Said Ryan for reasons he did not fully understand. Maybe this place was getting to him. He guessed as long as it made Michael happy, he could rattle off lame-ass dessert puns all day.

"Oh hey, HEY, yes! New guy! And he scores!" Michael shouted, pushing Ryan in the chest. Ryan felt two flutters in the areas of his chest that Michael's hands had touched.

"Okay that's great, I guess. What I'm most concerned with is damage to company property, that's all," Dwight's angry voice ended the happy/weird moment.

Michael appeared to think very hard for a second. "Pudding. Pood-ing," He said contemplatively. He shook his head in frustration, "I'm trying to think of another dessert to do."

Later on, Michael called the regular workers into the conference room to discuss some rumors about downsizing, leaving Ryan in the office to type up some paperwork. As he worked, he used the phone at his desk to call his friend, Hunter, who he knew was on break at this time. Hunter had been an ex of his, but the two had broken up with no hard feelings. Hunter had recently moved to New York and worked as a secretary at Dunder Mifflin Corporate. Small world.

"How's the job, Howard?" Hunter asked.

"Mmm… not too bad so far," Ryan said. "I've heard some rumors that there might be downsizing, but this is my first day; I don't really know."

"Yeah, they're talking about that here, but nobody's really sure about anything. So, what's it like working at the weirdest branch in the history of Dunder Mifflin?"

"Some of the people- well most of them, really- are kind of loony, but it's only eight hours a day." Ryan told Hunter about Kelly the chatty customer service rep and the Jello prank, which Hunter found incredibly funny.

"Any cute ones?" Hunter asked curiously.

"The boss, Michael, is kind of cute, but certifiably insane."

"How cute?"

"Dark hair, good tan, hazel eyes, shorter than me but he has a nice body."

"Nice. Are you gonna go for it?"

"No!" Ryan yelled louder than he meant to. He glanced anxiously towards the conference room to make sure nobody had heard him. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that they were still wrapped up in their meeting.

"Why not?" Hunter asked.

"Because he's my boss! Dating him would make things around here kind of… _awkward. _Besides, this guy doesn't seem like someone who could keep a secret. I mean, listening to him talk, you'd think he has no inhibitions whatsoever. Come on, a Hitler impression? Who does that?!"

"OK, maybe the guy's a little-or a lot- off-the-wall, but from what I hear, whatever he's doing at Scranton is working. That branch has always had the best numbers, even when other branches are going under. Plus, you admitted that he was cute. So, what does the fail-proof Ryan Howard Gaydar say?"

"I have a hunch that he's either gay or bi. My gaydar's never failed before, but there's a first time for everything."

"What!" Hunter pretended to gasp in alarm. "The famous Ryan Howard Gaydar coming out wrong? Blasphemy!"

"I'm sorry, Hunter," Ryan said sardonically, cracking a smile. "I realize that my Gaydar was the only thing you could trust, but you have to face the fact that it, too, may be flawed."

"Hmm, somehow I doubt that."

"Or you just don't want to even consider the possibility," Ryan corrected jokingly.

"Something like that, yeah," Hunter affirmed.

"K,' listen, man, I gotta go. People are starting to come out of the meeting now. Talk to you, later."

"Just promise me one thing," Hunter wheedled.

"What," Ryan asked warily.

"Promise that you'll give it a shot. You gotta have some fun, man. How long's it been since you last dated? Eight months? You need some fun. I mean, you're a good-looking guy; you could have anyone in the blink of an eye. Go for it, man. Say you'll go for it."

"No," Ryan said flatly, while looking nervously over his shoulder to see people filing out of the conference room.

"Come on, man. Do yourself a favor. Besides, this is just a temp job, so if things get awkward, you won't be around for long."

Hunter had a valid point. Besides it could be fun, and Michael Scott was undeniably cute, when he wasn't being annoying. "Fine, I'll go for it. Are you happy now?"

"Very."

"OK, I really got to go now. Talk to you later, bro," Ryan promised.

"Bye."

"Who was that?" Ryan heard an accusatory voice behind him as he hung up the phone and clicked the command to print out the paper he had just typed. Ryan practically jumped a foot in the air, then turned around, cricking his neck in the process, to see Dwight standing behind him with his arms folded.

"How is that any of your business?" Ryan asked.

"You are phoning on company time with a company phone, and thus you are losing the company money," Dwight informed him. "Also, our records indicate that you have no siblings and that you are, in fact, an only child. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that 'bro' must be an alias of some sort. Who are you in contact with, Temp? What exactly is your game here? I know you're up to something!"

Ryan nearly burst out laughing at the intense expression on Dwight's face. Fighting to keep his voice serious, he said, "I'd love to tell you, Dwight, really I would. But my mission represents years of careful research and planning. It would be foolish to throw all that away by running my mouth to a less able ally. Rest assured, though, that my every conversation, no matter how irrelevant, will have a positive impact on Dunder Mifflin- Scranton. However, if by some fluke, my plot is discovered and I am tortured for information, I want to be able to say with complete and utter honesty that my esteemed colleagues knew nothing of my plot."

Dwight gasped, his eyes wide. "That's, wow, that's incredibly noble, Temp," Dwight said in awe. "However, I cannot let you go down alone. With my years of experience at this branch, I can be of assistance to you in this mission."

"No… that's OK, Dwight." Ryan was starting to grow worried. He had made this whole thing up so that he would be able to do his own thing without Mr. Assistant _**to the **_Regional Manager breathing down his neck. This would have come in handy should he ever wish to have a chat with Hunter or, possibly, "Go for it" with Michael. It was just better to have all of his slightly unglued co-workers _**minding their own business**_.

"You can't do this alone!" Dwight hissed, the gleam of insanity shining in his eyes. Hmm… how would Miss Manners shoot down an offer for an alliance for an imaginary mission?

"K, Dwight, here's the deal," Ryan said. "I don't really know you. Give my sources a couple of weeks or maybe a couple of months to check your credentials and your past history to make sure you're ready for a mission of this caliber. Because, man, this is one of those things where if anyone makes even the tiniest mistake, the whole team's doomed."

Dwight subsided a bit, nodding in acceptance. "Shall I send your sources a record of my qualifications in the field of martial arts?" He asked.

"Um… no, that's OK," Ryan reassured him. "My sources are more than able to glean that information themselves."

"Obviously, but if I were to make the screening process go faster…"

"Ah… no, they would just think you're showing off. My sources _hate _show-offs, like a 'Might murder you in your sleep' kind of hate, if you get my drift."

"I shall await my acceptance, then," Dwight said in a dignified voice. "You know where to find me," He said over his shoulder at Ryan as he walked back to his desk.

Jim, who had been watching the whole thing from his desk at the end, grinned and winked at Ryan. Ryan grinned back, thinking about what a great body Jim had, and what a pity Jim had to be straight. Suddenly, Pam ran out of Michael's office, looking extremely upset, and headed straight towards the ladies' room. Jim followed Ryan's gaze in time to see the ladies' room door close behind a flash of red hair. Looking as though he would very much like to run in after her, Jim turned his chair around and watched the bathroom door, waiting for Pam to emerge. Before she did, Michael came out of his office, shouting "5:00, everybody, it's QUITTING TIME!!! Oh, my God, Ryan, you are so lucky you started on a Friday."

Ryan walked slowly towards the door, wondering vaguely whether he should stay and chat up his boss or if that might be a little awkward coming from someone whose only worked for you a day. Before he could make his decision, however, Michael said goodbye, clapping both Ryan and Jim on the shoulder in a fatherly sort of way, and left. "Bye, Michael; see you, Halpert," Ryan said before he too left to get ready for his night job, the one that didn't mean shit to him but was just a way to have ready, tax-free cash on hand. Jim waved without looking away from the ladies' room door, waiting patiently for Pam.

Later that Evening 

Ryan Howard, otherwise known as the Six-Pack Stud, strutted onstage with a dazzling smile which seemed to show all of his pearly white teeth. He pulled off his tight black muscle shirt, spinning it over his head, and turned slowly so the mostly intoxicated crowd could view his wiry, muscular chest and stomach from all angles. With his back to the crowd, he wriggled slowly out of the tight black shorts he was wearing, letting the crowd see his finely-toned rear. He bent down, grabbing his ankles, then touching his palms to the stage floor, and grinned at the upside-down crowd through his legs. Slowly, he spread his legs apart to do a split. At the same time, he brought his head and torso up. He held the split a few seconds before standing up and turning back around to face the crowd. He sat down at the edge of the makeshift stage with his legs spread out, right hand stroking his member. He slipped off the stage in a slow and sensual fashion and started to walk among the crowd of drunk, horny men, accepting tips and allowing the men to grab him and pull him in for sloppy kisses. When a man Ryan couldn't remember seeing at the club before but nevertheless looked familiar, a white color, management type who seemed buzzed rather than completely drunk and looked cleaner than the other patrons of Shady Sides Nightclub, handed him a twenty, Ryan (he could never think of himself as the Six-Pack Stud) pulled the man in for a kiss and slowly began unbuttoning the man's shirt with his teeth. He then kissed his way down the man's neck, to his chest, to his abs. The man moaned in pleasure and pressed more money into Ryan's hand. On his knees, Ryan was just about to unzip the man's pants when a club regular, drunk off his ass, yanked Ryan by the hair and pulled him in for a passionate, alcohol-induced kiss. "Yer hoggin' the hottest one here!" The creepy old drunk yelled at the halfway-decent man when, with another yank of Ryan's long, dark, wavy locks, the two broke apart.

"Easy, easy," Ryan cooed, holding back a shudder of disgust as he caressed the old man's red, prune-like face. "You know the rules. You give me what I want; I give you what you want."

The old prune dug a five-dollar bill out of his pocket, and Ryan rewarded him with another passionate kiss. Over the old man's shoulder, Ryan saw the new man watch, aroused, as the stripper made out with the prune. When the man had given Ryan all the money that was in his pockets, Ryan had an excuse to gently duck out of the old man's possessive embrace and tend to the other patrons. Yet, as he went through his well-practiced performance, his mind was still on the new customer? Where had he seen that man before?

Monday Morning

Talking Head Interview- MICHAEL

"My weekend was pretty good," Michael Scott said to the camera. "Of course, Friday night was pretty strange. I went to this strip joint called the Shady Sides Nightclub- not that I normally go to those types of places, but I figured, heck, I was as adventurous as the next guy, so why not? It was… ahem… completely different than what I expected. Um, I'll just say it was _more_ than I bargained for, haha. But it actually was a pretty good experience, surprisingly enough. Who knows, I may go back there again."

**Author's Note **

Woo! First chapter is done and a lot longer than I expected it to be. LOL, I made Ryan a stripper, aren't I evil? This is one of the times I really wish I could draw, because this story would inspire some great fan-art. I might have taken some creative liberties with what happens in the Pilot episode and what goes on in strip clubs, but hopefully that just made the story better. I'm pretty confident about the plot ideas I have going, but what do you think of my writing style? Also, if anyone could think of a better title for this piece, that would be awesome. Ryan The Temp loves reviews almost as much as he loves Michael. Thanks for reading.


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